Chapter 20: Midnight Divorce
The cold didn’t touch her. Not really. Clara walked through the Frozen Garden, the crushed velvet of her dress whispering against the brittle crust of snow. Overhead, the aurora borealis churned, vast and silent, painting the world in otherworldly greens and purples. It felt like a ceiling fresco in a cathedral she’d just willingly exited.
Her left hand felt strangely light. The absence of the heavy, ornate wedding band was more palpable than its presence had been for years. She flexed her fingers, the ghost of the ring a faint indent on her skin. The snow where it had fallen was already smoothing over, erasing the evidence.
A laugh bubbled up in her throat again, sharp and clear as breaking ice. It wasn’t hysterical. It was pure, unadulterated release. About damn time.
Nicholas’s voice still echoed, uncharacteristically strained, stripped of its perennial boom. “I love her, Clara. It’s a different kind of love. It’s… it’s necessary. I need a divorce.” The great Santa Claus, brought to his knees not by global logistics, but by a petite girl with a quiet heart. Clara had seen it coming for months, had practically orchestrated the moment, yet the raw confession under the swirling sky had still stolen her breath.
Not with grief. With vindication.
The path curved, and the low, warm glow of the stable appeared ahead, a promise in the crystalline night. The scent of pine was joined by the richer, earthier smells of hay, leather, and horse. She pushed the heavy door open.
The air inside was thick and still, warm from the breathing of the great reindeer in their stalls. Soft snuffles and the shift of hooves on straw were the only sounds. And there, in the lantern light at the far end, was Elias.
He was forking fresh hay into Blitzen’s stall, his shoulders working in a smooth, practiced rhythm. He hadn’t heard her come in. She leaned against the doorframe, watching him. The simple physicality of him, the quiet competence. So different from the seismic, globe-spanning drama she’d just left outside.
She didn’t speak for a long moment. Then, “He asked for a divorce.”
Elias froze. The pitchfork halted mid-arc. He turned slowly, his face shadowed then illuminated by the swinging lantern. He didn’t look surprised. He looked wary, as if waiting for the crack in her composure. “Clara?”
“He did it under the northern lights.” She pushed off from the door and walked toward him, her boots silent on the scattered straw. “Very dramatic. Full confession of undying love for your sister. Said it was ‘necessary.’” She reached him and plucked a piece of hay from his sweater. “I found that word interesting. Necessary.”
“Are you…” He searched her face. “What did you say?”
The smile that spread across her lips was genuine, reaching her eyes. “I dropped my ring in a snowdrift and said, ‘About damn time.’” She held up her bare left hand, wiggling her fingers. “Feel how light it is.”
Elias let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for months. A slow grin spread across his own face. “You’re okay.”
“I am spectacular.” She sighed, the final tension leaving her body, and let her forehead rest against his chest. The rough wool of his sweater was solid, real. “It was a business arrangement that outlived its utility. A very festive, globally-recognized business arrangement. And now it’s done.”
He wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting on the top of her head. They stood like that in the quiet stable, the world outside forgotten. “What happens now?” he murmured into her hair.
“Now?” Clara leaned back, her eyes gleaming with a new, unburdened mischief. “Now, I believe I am a soon-to-be-divorced woman of independent means, currently standing in a surprisingly romantic setting with a very handsome stable hand.” She let her hands slide down his back. “And I find I have a sudden, overwhelming urge to get into some trouble.”
Elias laughed, a low, warm sound that blended with the stable’s ambiance. “Trouble? In the stable?”
“Why not? It’s warm. It’s private.” She nodded toward the ladder leading to the hayloft. “And I’ve always been curious about the view from up there.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice. He took her hand, his grip sure, and led her to the ladder. She climbed slowly, her body cumbersome with its precious weight, but feeling more agile than she had in years. He was right behind her, a steadying presence.
The loft was a cave of golden shadows, piled high with sweet-smelling hay. Moonlight and the aurora’s glow filtered through a small, high window, dusting everything in silver. Clara sank into the soft, giving pile with a groan of pleasure. “Oh, this is better than any velvet chaise.”
Elias lay down beside her, propping himself on an elbow to look at her. The playful light faded from his eyes, replaced by a soft seriousness. “You’re sure? This is… huge.”
She reached up and traced the line of his jaw. “I’ve been sure since the night you couldn’t look me in the eye over the eggnog. Since the first time you touched me like you were afraid I’d break, and then like you knew I wouldn’t.” She guided his hand to her swollen belly. “This is what’s huge. And real. The paperwork Nicholas wants is just… administrative.”
The baby kicked, a solid roll against Elias’s palm. He smiled, that same look of awe she’d seen in the parlor. “He’s active tonight.”
“He’s celebrating,” Clara said. She pulled him down for a kiss. It was not a kiss of desperate passion, but of deep, converging relief. A meeting of two people who had, against all festive odds, found their way out of a labyrinth and into something simple. His body was warm and solid over hers, a welcome weight.
After a while, lying tangled in the hay and each other, watching the colors dance through the window, Clara spoke again, her voice thoughtful. “He’ll marry her, you know. Immediately. Probably in some terribly quaint elf ceremony. He’ll want the baby to have his name.”
Elias was quiet for a moment. “Mimi will love that. She doesn’t care about the spectacle. Just him.”
“I know.” And Clara found she meant it. The sharp edges of competition were gone, melted away by the absolute cold finality of the ring in the snow. “Let them have their happiness. It doesn’t diminish mine.” She turned her head to look at him. “In fact, it rather clarifies it.”
He kissed her shoulder. “So what does the future hold for Clara Claus? Formerly Claus.”
She grinned up at the rafters. “First, a divorce settlement that ensures I own this stable and several thousand acres of premium toy-workshop adjacent property. Then, a long period of doing absolutely nothing but raising this child and being thoroughly spoiled by a younger man.” She slid her hand into his. “The ‘Mrs. Claus’ title is contractual. The Clara part… that’s all mine. And she’s just getting started.”
Outside, a gust of wind shook the stable walls, sending a fine dusting of snow from the roof. But inside the hayloft, wrapped in scent and warmth and a new, uncharted peace, they didn’t feel it at all.